


A Glimpse of a Great Heart

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Books, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Injuries, Sherlock Holmes References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: Bob likes to read... a lot. More than the average fireman, that's for certain, and every voracious reader has their favorite books they like to read over and over. Bob's is Sherlock Holmes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fic inspired by a line from 'The Three Garridebs'

Contrary to what looks might suggest, Bob Bellingham is a reader, and a voracious one at that. He’ll read anything from technical manuals to Shakespeare and whatever’s in between. There’s always a small pile of books in his locker, and his small apartment threatens to be overwhelmed by stacks upon stacks of them. They’re in his car, his bedside table, his work bag, even in the squad. Bob grew up pretty poor, after all, and the library was free. In the library, books allowed him to go anywhere and be anything.

His recent books of choice have been Sherlock Holmes. Bob often feels that being a paramedic is a lot like being a detective with a time crunch. Someone has a problem that has to be taken care of sooner rather than later. There’s always a mystery to solve. Bob loves it. He’s always felt a bit like Sherlock Holmes in the field… though his current partner makes him feel more like Dr. Watson.

Craig Brice is a smart kid, brilliant, if a bit odd, but Bob likes him. He’s observant and works quick and doesn’t ask too many questions. He does his job and well, and that’s all Bob can really ask for. It doesn’t particularly matter to him that Brice is a bit aloof and clinical or that he sometimes talks too much when he’s excited about something. _He’s just a damn good paramedic and a good kid. All that matters._ It makes him feel even more like he’s in the middle of a Holmes story.

“Bellingham?”

“Hmm? What?”

“I asked what you are reading today.”

“Just some Sherlock Holmes.”

He looks up at his young partner. Brice isn’t extraordinarily young by departmental standards, not at twenty-six, even if it does make Bob feel old when he remembers the Second World War and his partner doesn’t. He always looks much younger, though, with his roundish face, shaggy brown hair, and those big glasses of his. _Maybe why he’s so pissed off lookin’ all the time. Thinks no one’ll take him seriously if he acts his age._ Even in the few months they’ve been partnered up, Bob has been fortunate enough to see Brice crack a smile or two, generally in the privacy of the squad after a difficult rescue paid off. It makes him feel good, having the secret knowledge of Brice’s smile, like Watson who knows all Holmes’ little secrets and stories. He’s the only one who knows what Brice looks like when his pale eyes crinkle at the corners and his lips quirk up, teeth slightly bared. It’s mesmerizing.

“You ever read much Sherlock Holmes, Brice?” he asks, turning a page.

“Unfortunately not. I generally prefer to read nonfiction.”

“I think you’d like it.”

“Why is that?”

Bob smiles, explains, “He’s kinda like you, honestly. Smart, aloof, only got one person that tolerates him and likes him… good with mysteries. Actually, if ya go and dig through the material, Holmes was about twenty-six when he became a detective, maybe younger. Made friends with Watson then but was probably workin’ as a detective earlier than that. Watson was a little older, had seen a lot more, been in a war, that kinda shit.”

“So, you see a parallel of our relationship?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

Brice smirks but says nothing else. _Our relationship._ They aren’t quite friends yet, not really. They don’t hang out in their off-time, don’t go to breakfast after their shifts, have never been to the other’s place. That’s not to say Bob doesn’t want to be his friend. He does. The kid seems kind of lonely even if he claims he isn’t. Bob’s seen the hurt in his young face when he isn’t invited out and when former partners barely acknowledge him in the field.

They’re toned out to a police call, hostage situation, and Bob’s stomach turns as they race to the scene.

“Just that one fella in there, barricaded in,” a cop explains, “Keeps shootin’ at everything that moves, threatenin’ to kill himself. Sure wastin’ a lot of bullets for that, though.”

 _Sure is._ Bob returns to the squad. They’re not going anywhere until it’s safe. The police have a pretty good barricade set up, so Bob’s not terribly concerned with their safety where they’re at. He picked a good spot behind all the squad cars.

“So, it isn’t truly a hostage situation, is it?” Brice asks.

“Reckon if he’s holdin’ himself hostage, it is,” he answers, “I dunno, this is why I became a fireman and not a cop. Much rather do this than that.”

“You wouldn’t make an effective policeman.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t believe you are capable of harming anyone. The police are routinely required to shoot or otherwise harm perpetrators, and I don’t see you as being able to do that, Bellingham.”

“Well, that’s awful sweet of ya, I thi-“

Bob’s voice is cut off with a cry of pain and a swear, and he drops to the ground. Pain burns across his calf, sharp and demanding.

“Bellingham? Bellingham! Bob!”

Brice is at his side immediately, and the evident worry is something Bob both cherishes and prays he never has to see again. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, hands and lips shaking finely as he grabs Bob’s pantleg and jerks it up. The sigh of relief he gives is melodious as the first breath a patient takes when revived. _It was worth a wound; it was worth many wounds…_ Bob can’t help but grin.

“It’s superficial,” Brice says in a shaky voice, “A graze…”

“Prob’ly a ricochet… asshole’s shootin’ at anything and everything…”

There was nothing else to say, really. Brice’s hand is still on his arm, gripping his bicep tightly. _He’s not a robot. He does care about people… and people forget that._ It’s another secret this Watson will keep, another secret he will hold dear.


End file.
